CHAPTER FOUR -
TEMPTATION WAITS

Irvine, Scotland. Django entered the bar, cautiously and skulkily. He was trying to appear casual, but it wasn't easy. The town of Irvine had never been a favourite hangout of his. It had that sinister, unfriendly, parochial vibe Django disliked so much, in it's every nook and cranny. And all the pubs seemed so dark and gloomy. This one proved no exception.

Django carefully glanced around and then went to the back of the bar, where there were some tables. He was much relieved that this part of the bar seemed devoid of patrons. This was where he was to rendezvous with his contact. The mysterious benefactor.

Django frowned. This wasn't right. At one of the tables, sat a little old fashioned doll and a cuddly stuffed pig. What the hell was this? There were no kids around and it didn't seem the family type of bar. Django noticed something else on the table. Casually sliding his hand over the table (nothing suspicious there) he picked up a bulging envelope. Django, it was written on the front. The writing was very clumsy. Almost like a doll would write, if you allowed your mind to go down that route. Django chuckled.

Opening the envelope, Django found the items he expected to find. False papers and passport. Some money. Django eagerly pocketed the items. "Well I guess this is for you then." he said bashfully, placing a cake box on the table. Now he'd seen just about everything. Still feeling that unpleasant "Irvine vibe", he was all set for skeedaddling.

A berating (but Django couldn't help noting, very sexy) voice came from behind Django. "Just what do you think you're doing?" The words reverberated with rage. Django half turned, as the beautiful raven haired woman in a gothic dress flitted right past him, turning to eye him with contempt.

Django was taken by surprise and couldn't answer. Besides he was pretty much at a loss as to what was going on. The girl picked up the doll and appeared to be addressing it. "Miss Edith speaks with a potty mouth. She shows contempt for all lessons on manners and I expressly forbid her from cake for a week!" Putting the doll down, Drusilla turned to address Django. "You're the one who's been putting all that nonsense in my dear dolly's head. She speaks of nothing but magic jobcentres and KGB brainwashing."

Django felt on trial. "No....yes...probably. All I really know is, I was helped to escape."

Drusilla laughed at this. "You were like a little bird with no wings. My dolly brought you worms in the nest to feed on." Django realised he liked the sing-song lilt to the girl's voice. Clasping the cake box to her waist, Drusilla sat at the next table. She as yet had no idea why bad Miss Edith was playing match maker. And it puzzled her.

Django's curiosity was overpowering his previous urge to leave. How ravishing this strange girl looked to him. And how intriguing her words were. Feigning a casual no rush to be anywhere attitude, he got a beer from the unfriendly bartender and sat down at the last of the tables in the corner. He took out the book he had been reading. It was far too dim, but he was just under a "light" and he pretended to read.

Drusilla sighed as she picked up one of the beer coasters on her table. "Where I came from they didn't 'ave beer coasters." she spoke absentmindedly to noone in particular. "They had mineshafts and accidents and everything was nice. This isn't even interesting to read!" she flipped the silly thing to the floor.

"What are you reading?" Drusilla moved closer to the young man, who was beginning to attract her curiosity.

"Jane Eyre." Django looked up at her....and almost fell into her mesmerising eyes.

"Ooh, Jane Eyre!" Drusilla closed her eyes in a wave of nostalgia. "I saw one of her performances, when I was just a little girl. She was the first punk rocker, you know."

Django's eyes widened in surprise. "What? No! Really?"

Drusilla looked at him again. "It's true. Noone really got her act then, what with the chains and all. But I always knew it was just a matter of time before what she was doing, reached a wider audience."

Django thought about it for a moment. "Well she does have the attitude, the way she stood up to Mrs Reed. It's very good. I read another Charlotte Bronte book, Shirley, a few years ago but I was disappointed, that the book ends before she joins Garbage."

Drusilla examined him queerly, not knowing whether she should explain something to him or not. Then she brightened again. "Oh, I see! For a moment there dearie, I thought you were being serious. Quite mad this one, I thought. I can see I'll have to watch you." She smiled at her admirer. He was really very sweet, stealing glances at her while he was reading. Blushing when she looked at him. Miss Edith had played a right little game on him, and Drusilla was beginning to see why. Time for a test though. "I'm Drusilla!"

Django started. "What, THE Drusilla? So you're not just a bit-" He stopped himself. He had been about to say "a bit eccentric."

"You've heard of me?" Drusilla was impressed.

"Of course." Django affirmed.

"I'm glad." Drusilla felt some relief. "I met a demon once who hadn't heard of me. I had to tear off his ears! Glad I don't have to do that with you."

Django seemed glad too. "Er....can I get you a drink?"

Drusilla was amused. "Oh they won't serve it to you dearie. Your heart thunders in your chest like a little cosy rabbit warren!" She signalled to the bar man. When he came over, Django was surprised to see he was now a tusk faced demon. His hostess and the demon conversed. She waved it away and a few minutes later drinks were brought. Hers was very red. Django had been brought a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale, the true King Of Beers! How perceptive. Django now felt a new relaxed air towards him from the bar patrons, as if he'd received approval. "Cheers m'dears!" Drusilla clinked her drink against Django's.

A few drinks later and they were still talking merrily. Drusilla had since went onto wine and was feeling pleasantly tipsy. Django was beginning to think he should go with a glass of water for the next round. Drusilla whispered something in his ear. "What, in here?" Django asked looking round.

"The whole town." Drusilla corrected. "Run by demons for demons!"

"Run by demons." Django pondered. It made sense, he realised. Strange, that he hadn't suspected as such before now. "So that's why all the pubs keep out the sunlight."

"Mmmmm, I always love to come here when I'm in the UK again." Drusilla explained. "It's world famous as one of the best towns for demons to get together." She thought about it for a bit. "They don't much like humans though."

The night wore on. Django had not kept to his water diet and was growing more amorous. "Would you like me to sing for you, Dru?" he asked, grinning seductively.

Drusilla grew reflectively serious at that. "The evil ex sang to me sometimes..." she mused remembering-

Brazil. Poor Jilted Spike was making an even more pathetic display of himself. Drunkenly serenading below a hotel window.

"Oh, Dru is cruel and heartless, To pack me for a chaos demon, Just 'cause he's more demon than me, Just 'cause he's got slime and antlers!

But I know he's a moron! Chaos demons are morons! Chaos demons are morons! Chaos demons are -OW!"

A boot forcefully hit Spike on the head. "Shut up Spike!" Drusilla had roared from the window.

This was followed by the apologetic tones of the chaos demon. "Once again, I'm really sorry about all this."

-"Didn't like it much." Drusilla concluded cattily. Growing more morose she looked at Django, searching his face for an answer. "Would you stake me, your little princess?"

"What? No!" Django was genuinely shocked by the idea. "How can you think such a thing?"

"The evil ex was going to stake me once." Drusilla explained bitterly. "Was trying to show off for his little blonde tart, 'e was!"

Django's eyes bulged in their sockets. "Where does he live, this creep?"

"Look at you! All ready to defend my honour!" Drusilla's spirits lifted completely. She nuzzled her new champion proudly. "Drusilla's brave knight is what you are!" Drusilla kissed Django on the cheek and whispered, "Just give me a couple of minutes to pop out and get meself a nibble. And then we'll go find someplace more exciting!"

****

The music was booming and Django and Drusilla were lost in their dancing. Everything was perfect. Drusilla was so pleased to have found someone so mad as herself and Django was seeing a whole new world through her eyes.

The club Drusilla had found for them was just perfect for Django. They'd been dancing for well over an hour now, among all sorts of demons to the likes of Blondie, Garbage, The Clash, Generation X and all sorts of others. They'd even shared a slow seductive dance to Rasputina's "Transylvanian Concubine" and it was as if Drusilla had never heard it with anyone else. Django wondered why places like this could exist for demons, when humans were so content to badger themselves senseless with continuous, thumping, tuneless noise or manufactured pop for kids at most of their clubs.

All that was changing now however. The wild lights were beginning to go for Django's head. His drinking had caught up with him, it seemed and he had to run outside to the alley.

"Oah!" Drusilla whispered to herself as she steadied herself against the wall. It seemed that even she wasn't quite immune to all those little wines she'd had. Seeing her exciting, new companion like this, Drusilla had to admit he didn't seem like much. Crouched down in a back alley trying to let the fresh air wash over him and trying not to be sick anymore.

Drusilla came up to him and put her hands around his neck. How easy it would be to just twist his head off and move on, to pastures new. Drusilla contemplated it. But then she remembered him, all ready to defend her no matter what. Drusilla's brave knight she'd called him earlier. And just think how much fun they'd had. Angelus and Spike had often been such moody, glum sorts at times. Django, however had been such fun all night. It would be a shame to let his puny human reaction to intoxication ruin all that. Drusilla relented.

Django felt her hands on his neck. "Going to massage me then?" he wondered, patting her hands.

Drusilla smiled. "Let's get you home love."

****

Django groaned as he awoke. The room he was in was very dark. The curtains were shut up tight. There was a good reason for that though, he remembered. They were in a nice hotel suite. Seeing Drusilla lying under the covers all snug, he decided not to disturb her. He tried to get some more rest himself. Maybe in a while, when he was feeling more steady, he would get himself a glass of water.

Django couldn't help feel a bit guilty about overdrinking. Him and Drusilla were having so much fun and then he'd gone and botched it. It said much for her apparent affection for him, that she hadn't tired of him after it stopped being fun. He had been nervous of course (of her losing interest and moving onto another). The last few days had been pretty weird and trying. But that seemed no excuse for letting her down like that. Putting up with someone else's hangover was hardly the perfect cap to a night. How could he possibly make it up to her?

Eventually Django got a few more patches of sleep and it was around mid-day before Drusilla showed any signs of waking. She was pleased that her new companion wasn't just one of her nonsense dreams after all. She remembered what a sharp mind she'd sensed in him. Like a bright diamond it had seemed. And she was just like a magpie. I'll come along and snatch your secrets for me nest, Drusilla thought.

Drusilla's companion hadn't really registered that she was ready to stir yet. He wasn't quite sleeping though, she could tell. It would be a few hours yet before they could go out and do anything together. Well, maybe not hours, it was still the UK after all. Drusilla was very curious about her Django. He had been too drunk to play with last night. Besides she wanted to spend some time, slowly unwrapping her present. Not that that had stopped her taking a peek in all the right places though.

"Are you feeling alright, dearie?" Drusilla rolled over and leaned over him.

Django affirmed that he was. "Much better thanks."

Drusilla kissed him wetly on the mouth. "You seemed to like that basin in the bathroom, more than you liked me."

Django blushed at the memory. "Of course not. I was very bad. I'm sorry about that."

Much of his colour was returning, Dru could tell. "Miss Edith has been bad too. She and that pig. Gone off somewhere they 'ave. We lost track of their whereabouts."

Django remembered the doll and the pig. Very odd. But already he was starting to think of them as family. "Want me to go and look for them in a bit?"

Drusilla shook her head. "Oh they'll turn up. At least she will. She always does. I'm worried about her and the pig though. Weak he is. He'll go back to that Buffy more than likely. She'll find a way to make him."

Django started to rise but Drusilla put a hand on his chest, to restrain him. "Oh let's get a proper look at you." Drusilla grinned. Django grinned back and let his arms enfold her waist closer. He realised that when all was said and done, he was about to be a very lucky man.

****

Drusilla lay on her tummy, in no hurry to get dressed. Even though her tummy was now beginning to growl. She would have to think about that. Django fascinated her, but he was still a human creature and his dark princess had no intention of changing anything about him just yet. Still, it meant that he was not likely to be ready to see her feed, just yet. She'd have to find some time to excuse herself soon. Drusilla felt Django's touch on her shoulders and nape of her neck once more. She decided it was time to pop the question. "Would you like to be in my sit- com?"

Django sat up surprised. "Sit-com?"

Drusilla nodded. "I'm going to have my own sit-com soon. Got an agent setting it up in New York. Had to munch on a few telephone operators first. But you'd be surprised how easy it all was to set up."

"Noone was going to say no to you." Django kissed her shoulder.

"Only I thought I might need a co-star. I don't want to leave all the big decisions to my greedy producers. And I think you'd be wonderful as a writer." Drusilla glowed excitedly. "What do you say pet?"

"Let's go pet!" Django did not hesitate. Good job for him that the McCarthy Witch Hunts were all over though, he thought sardonically. What with his alleged brainwashing and all. Django wasn't sure what to believe anymore. He knew how much he was enjoying being around this girl though. And there couldn't possibly be another like her. This would be the beginning of a great adventure.